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but there was enough light to see his expression. He was awestruck. It made her want to cry out to be so obviously desired.
    “What happens now?” she said, and they both heard the crackle of lust in her voice.
    “Whatever you want.”
    “What do you want?”
    “You. This. I’m on a fantasy trip, where a fucking gorgeous woman who knows nothing about me wants me, and I don’t care to have it interrupted yet.”
    “They could at any minute.”
    He grinned and went to the door, opened it, did something to the handle and closed it again.
    “You locked us in?”
    “Is that okay?”
    No it wasn’t okay. Anything but okay. She didn’t know this man. She should be wary of him. She didn’t know herself, and that was frightening, but there was a dangerous inevitability to where this was going, and it was too big to ignore. Too extraordinary to pass up.
    He read her hesitation as a return to the real world. He reached for the door handle again.
    “Leave it.”
    He came and stood in front of her. “Tell me what you want.”
    “You beside me. I want to kiss you again. I want to touch your skin. I want to hear your breath come short.”
    When he sat again, she shifted to straddle his legs. “Do you do this often?”
    “Make out with women I’ve just met? Would it matter?”
    “No.”
    He grinned, wicked in the half-light. Fuelled with daring, with the deep safety of anonymity, she leaned forward and rimmed his lip with the tip of her tongue, felt his smile widen. His hands were on the jacket zip, opening it, opening her up to his touch. They skimmed her ribs, smoothed down the dip of her waist, over the flare of her hip and around to her backside. He pulled her forward so they were hip ground on hip.
    “Are you warm enough?”
    “Yes.” She was burning up. She was insensible to anything but his nearness, and what he promised to do to her. His hand was at the back of her neck, he was trying to take the band from her hair. “God, you’re beautiful.” She met his fingers with both hands behind her head, and he let go and brought his hands to her breasts. She surged into him as her hair fell about her shoulders and neck. But he held her upright.
    “I need to see you.”
    She felt like she glittered, that her skin sparkled with radiance. He made her shimmer, and she was proud of what she felt from the authority of his touch. She threw her head back and let him stroke her body, till she undulated in his hands, till she was groaning from need.
    “So beautiful.”
    And he was so contained. So in control, while she was rapidly losing her sense of self; servant to the demands her body was making. He wasn’t kissing her; he was holding her back, upright, away from him. She could feel the need in him too, but his restraint was frustrating.
    “Now you’re killing me, old man.”
    His laugh was a sinful rumble in his chest. He pushed the jacket off her shoulders and down to her elbows, pinned her forearms behind her back with one hand and brought himself closer. He trailed his nose along her neck, his breath hot fire against her ear and in her hair. She turned her head to try to capture his mouth, but he pulled away, another rumbled laugh. He nuzzled her check until she dropped her head back, and he sucked on her neck. She didn’t care if he bruised, but he stopped, held, open-mouthed, resting in the nest of her rising anticipation.
    It was unfair. He could touch but she could only feel him though double layers of denim. She wanted skin. She tried to pull her hands out of his hold and the tangle of jacket, but he stilled her with a palm to her cheek, then fingers combing through her hair.
    “Wait, just wait.”
    The sound of his voice close to her ear jolted through her, and he made a low growl of satisfaction from seeing the effect it had on her. She struggled again, how could he arrest her with one hand? If she stood, she’d break his hold immediately, but she wanted more of him, not less, and this play of power over